feel right arranged the way it should be, that she isn't going to weardresses made by fashionable dressmakers because they areuncomfortable. She actually told me she liked to be a few minutes outof style!"

"But isn't she right?" murmured Mrs. Ivy. "God has given her agraceful, symmetrical body, shouldn't she clothe it in flowing robesthat do not confine or--"

"For Heaven's sake, Mrs. Ivy, don't you dare start her on dressreform! Her one chance for social success is her beauty. She simplyterrifies me the way she says right out the first thing that comesinto her mind. It will take me months to teach her the first lesson insociety, that the most immodest thing in the world is the nakedtruth."

"What I hope to rouse in the dear girl," said Mrs. Ivy with a superiorsmile, "is a sense of responsibility toward her fellowmen. I havealready proposed her name for the Anti-Tobacco League and Miss Snell,our corresponding secretary of the Foreign Missionary Society, haspromised to meet me here at five. It is these young, ardent souls thatmust take up the banner of reform when it drops from the hands of usveterans."

"Well," said Mrs. Sequin, turning a handsome, bored profile to hercompanion, "I shall never get over the absurdity of the marriage!"

"Ah!" said Mrs. Ivy, laying a plump white hand on Mrs. Sequin's arm,"cosmic forces brought them together! The thing we seek is seeking us.She was young, inexperienced, adrift in the world; he was ill, lonely,and with three motherless children. She told me that through the pastyear, the Doctor's letters were all that sustained her."

"Of course they did! Cousin John's letters sustain everybody.Especially if you haven't heard his lectures. Of course he does repeathimself."

"As for her youth," went on Mrs. Ivy. "What if she is a mere rosebudas yet? She'll unfold; we'll help her to unfold, you and I, won't we?"

Meanwhile the bride had slipped in the side entrance and was makingfrantic haste in the room above to exchange a tennis costume for a newhouse-dress.

Connie Queerington was assisting, but Connie's assistance wasgenerally a hindrance. She was an exceedingly voluble, blond youngperson, with blue eyes that enjoyed nothing more than their ownreflection.

"I'll never get it hooked if you don't hold still," she was saying."Every time you laugh you pop it open."

"Fifteen--love, thirty--love, forty--love, game!" rehearsed Miss Lady,practising a newly acquired serve with a vigorous stroke of herracket. "I could play all day and all night! Do you think I'll everget to be a good player?"

"Of course, if you just won't get so excited and hit the balls beforethey bounce. Gerald Ivy says your overhand play is great. He's madabout you, anyhow. I'd give both my little fingers to have him look atme as he did at you to-day."

"Silly!" laughed Miss Lady. "There goes the button off my slipper. Doyou suppose any one will notice if I pin the strap?"

"Nobody but Myrtella. Sit on your foot if she comes around. If youdon't hurry Cousin Katherine will have nervous prostration."

"I don't see why you have to treat reception day like judgment day,"complained Miss Lady. "Who else is down stairs?"

"Only Mrs. Ivy now. She is the one who held your hand and called you asunbeam. Gerald's mother, you know. Hat can't abide her; says she's apussy-cat. Of course Mr. Gooch will be here for supper."

"Who?"

"Mr. Gooch."

"A friend of the Doctor's?"

"No, indeed. He isn't anybody's friend. He bores us all toextinction."

"Well, what's he coming for?"

"I don't know. He always comes on Friday. He came in here once to getout of the rain, and Mother asked him to stay to tea. That was tenyears ago and he has been back nearly every Friday since."

"Do you have company like this all the time?" asked Miss Lady somewhatbreathlessly.

"This is nothing!" exclaimed Connie dramatically. "Before Myrtellacame I never knew what it was to sleep in my own bed, and I had to eatthe legs of chickens until I felt like a centipede. There! You are allright; come along. Don't forget to tell Father about the party!"

Miss Lady had been married two weeks, but she was still circlingwildly in a vortex of new experiences that excited and bewildered her.Through a long, lonely winter she had fought out her problems at thelittle country school, relying implicitly upon Doctor Queerington'sfriendship and guidance. His weekly letters, couched in paragraphs oftechnical perfection, seemed to her oracles of wisdom and beauty. Thenthe amazing and unbelievable thing had happened! He, the great DoctorQueerington, her father's friend, her friend, the man whom sherespected more than any one else in the world, had chosen her, ayoung, inexperienced girl to be his wife!

To one who was quite sure that she was through with illusions forever, and who flattered herself that the sentimental age was safelybehind her, the honor of a life-long companionship with a man likeDoctor Queerington was almost overwhelming. She wanted passionately tobe of use in the world, to make her life count for something. Theopportunity of being of service to the Doctor, of helping him completethe great work that absorbed him, of ministering to his physicalneeds, and bringing joy into his life, assumed the character of asacred privilege.

If haunting doubts and vague unsatisfied longings possessed her attimes, she attributed them to that dear but unreal glamour of romancethat the Doctor had taught her must be expected to play for a whileabout the dawn of youth, but which fades away in the noon of maturity.And so not being skilled in the science of self-analysis, shefearlessly put her hand into the Doctor's, and promised to obey with afrank sense of relief at the shifted responsibility.

The new life into which she entered proved different in every respectfrom what she had expected. The Doctor's time, scheduled to theminute, admitted of no interruptions, however helpful from her. Infact, he seemed to regard her as a cherished luxury which he had notime to enjoy. The children accepted her according to their respectivenatures, Connie as a chum, Hattie as an arch enemy, and Bertie as anidol.

Hattie was fourteen, and had solved all the problems of the universe.She firmly upheld Aristotle and scornfully dismissed Plato from theworld of philosophy. She disapproved of boys, of society, of secondmarriages, and she had four desperately intimate friends, all of whomwere going to be authoresses. According to her observations she wasthe one person in the universe, excepting her father, who adhered tothe truth. Hence her mission in life was to struggle single-handedagainst other people's inaccuracies.

Miss Lady found refuge from Hattie's caustic comments in Bertie'simmediate devotion. He had won her heart on the night of her arrival,when he had gone to sleep in her lap with a last injunction, that she"must stay with them always, until God sent for her."

Whatever ideas Miss Lady had cherished of taking charge of thedomestic affairs were promptly discouraged by Myrtella, who hadgraciously consented to give the new mistress a month's trial,threatening that at the first interference she would abandon her toher fate.

Their first meeting was auspicious. Myrtella on returning from herafternoon out, had heard a wild commotion in the nursery and hastenedup to investigate. Bertie's introduction was breathless:

"It's the new mother, 'Tella, and Chick's here, and we are playingbear, and we've broken the bed-springs, and she knows heaps and heapsof stories, and she knows Chick!"

Myrtella, who had steeled herself for mortal combat, was not preparedfor a foe who sat in the middle of the nursery bed, laughing behind atumbled shock of shining brown hair.

"Oh! this is Myrtella, isn't it?" asked the bear, shaking back hermane and smiling with engaging frankness. "Bertie says you are Chick'saunt, and Chick's an old friend of mine, isn't it funny?"

"We both live on Billy-goat Hill. We always wave to each other when Ipass by, don't we, Chick?"

Chick, who was partially under the bed, still in his character ofintrepid hunter, acknowledged the fact with such a torrent ofenthusiastic incoherence that Myrtella interrupted sternly:

"Come out here this minute. It's time for you to be going on homeanyhow. First thing I know I'll be getting complained at for havingyou hanging around so much. And look at your hands, BertieQueerington! You are going to get put in the bath-tub right off,that's what you are going to get!"

"I'll bathe him," said Miss Lady eagerly.

"No," said Myrtella firmly, "there can't nobody but me manage him."

But in spite of the ferocity of Myrtella's aspect, there was asoftened gleam in her eye that showed that the new mistress had begunby giving satisfaction.

The first few days after her arrival, Miss Lady spent in the dimparlor receiving callers. All the Doctor's relatives having survivedtheir spasms of indignation over his marriage, united in a promptdetermination to train up his young wife in the way she should go.Advice as various as it was profuse, was showered upon her. At firstshe was amused; then she was inexpressibly bored; at last she wasdesperate. She was not used to being indoors all day, she was not usedto spending her time with elderly ladies who talked of moralobligations, and social demands, and civic consciences. The duties ofher married life which had promised such interesting responsibilities,and wonderful opportunities for aiding the Doctor in his great work,seemed to be shrinking into the dull task of keeping herself and thechildren out of his way, preserving a tomb-like silence in the house,and entertaining an endless round of callers.

Even this would have been bearable if the Doctor could only have takentime from his soul-absorbing work to listen at the end of the day,with amused tenderness, to all her little experiences, if he haddiscussed with her the best way of handling the children, laughed withher over her struggles with Myrtella, and encouraged thoseaffectionate words and caresses that were so much a part of hernature.

If he could have done this, Miss Lady would have soon foundsatisfaction in lavishing her affection upon him. It was her bent tobe passionately attached to those about her, and she was not one tostand still in a mental or emotional imprisonment.

But the Doctor was struggling through the most nerve-wrecking month ofthe year at the university. The beginning of a new term, theadjustment of classes, the enrolment of new pupils, all made a heavydrain on his weakened constitution. He was in no condition in theevenings to give out anything more, even to a young and devoted bridewho was quite ready to relinquish any other pleasure to burn incenseat the shrine of his learning.

The homesickness that had hung over her since the day she had turnedher back on Thornwood would have enveloped her completely had it notbeen for Connie. Connie was but a year her junior, and was thoroughlydisapproved by the family connection. She enjoyed the reputation ofbeing frivolous and vain, and wholly lacking in reverence to herelders.

Connie's friends and amusements proved the line of least resistancealong which Miss Lady raced to freedom. The tennis court served as ajoyful substitute for the drab dreariness of the new home, and thefree and easy companionship of Connie's friends a happy relief fromthe elderly feminines that invaded it.

The Doctor was still the majestic pivot, round which her thoughtsswung, but the circle was growing wider and wider. The difference intheir ages, which at first to her inexperience had seemed such atrifling consideration, proved more serious as time went on.

She was eager for life, keen for pleasure, plastic, susceptible. Eachnew experience was to her an epoch, while to the Doctor, whose habitsand opinions were fixed for eternity, it was usually but a freshinterruption to his work.

It was not that he failed to appreciate her. The light that came intohis serious eyes whenever she was near, the unfailing courtesy andgentleness with which he spoke to her, the absolute freedom he allowedher, and the flattering appeal he made to her intellect, calmedwhatever doubts might have risen in her mind.

Of her own feelings she dared not stop to think. Life was all sostrange, so different from what she had expected. The flashes of doubtand perplexity that came in the pauses between Connie's closelyplanned festivities, she attributed to homesickness.

It was late when her last caller departed, and as she ran lightly upto the Doctor's study, she realized with a little sense ofdisappointment that she had not seen him since breakfast. Even now shepaused at the door, for fear she would interrupt some flight of themuse. But on peeping in she found his big armchair drawn up to thewindow, and the top of a head appearing above its back. Tiptoeingcautiously forward she clapped her hands over his eyes and dropped akiss on his upturned forehead.

In an instant a strange, belligerent little gentleman had sprung tohis feet and was confronting her with features that resembled those ofa magnified and outraged bumblebee.

"I am so sorry!" stammered Miss Lady in laughing chagrin, "I--Ithought you were the Doctor!"

"Even so," admitted the stranger rather firmly, standing with chinlifted and nostrils dilated, "even so. You seem to have forgotten thefact that Doctor Queerington is now a benedict!"

"Yes, but you don't understand." I am--"

"A friend of Constance' no doubt. But under the circumstances you willpermit me to say that such conduct is ill-advised. I should notmention it were I not a friend of the family--"

"Oh! You are Mr. Gooch?"

"I am. And I have the pleasure of addressing--"

"Why, I'm Mrs. Queerington," said Miss Lady, blushing furiously.

Mr. Gooch sank back into the chair and looked at her indignantly.

"Impossible!" he exploded. "They did not tell me--in fact I was notprepared--May I ask you not to mention my mistake to the girls?Constance, as you doubtless have discovered, is very silly, given tomaking great capital out of nothing. We will not mention it."

"Ah!" said the Doctor in the doorway with his arms full of books. "Howare you, my dear? How are you, Mr. Gooch? What is this conspiracy ofsilence?"

"It is only against the girls," laughed Miss Lady. "We'll take him in,won't we, Mr. Gooch?"

The Doctor listened with tolerant amusement as Miss Lady gave adramatic account of the double mistake, but Mr. Gooch failed to smile.

All through supper that evening Miss Lady tried in vain to propitiatethe guest. His manner showed only too plainly that he regarded her asan intrusion in the family which he had seen fit to adopt. It was notuntil the pudding arrived that his mood mellowed. Myrtella's cookingwas so eminently to his taste that he was willing to put up with agreat deal for the privilege of enjoying it. Moreover, laughter alwaysimproved his digestion and the young person at the head of the tablewas proving amusing.

"Mr. Gooch is waiting for more coffee," announced Hattie, interruptingan animated account Miss Lady was giving of her first day at thecountry school.

"Let her finish the story," said the Doctor to whom food wasimmaterial. He was indulging in the unusual luxury of loitering at thetable after the meal was finished, a habit seldom tolerated in theQueerington household.

"But there isn't time," insisted Hattie. "Connie is having a party to-night."

"A party?" The Doctor's brows lifted.

"Yes," broke in Connie. "Miss Lady said she didn't think you'd mind,and she persuaded Myrtella to let us dance in here. You won't mind thenoise, just this one night, will you, Father?"

The Doctor considered the matter gravely. After all, his reading wouldbe interrupted by Mr. Gooch, so he might as well assent. He seldomobjected to any plan that did not interfere with his own actions. Hisabsorption in the race precluded an interest in mere family matters.

"They are not pressing you into service, I hope?" he asked, glancingat Miss Lady.

"Indeed we are!" cried Connie. "She's going to play for us to dance,when she isn't dancing herself. Of course we want her with us."

"You forget, Constance, that there are other claims upon her. Mr.Gooch and I would like to have her with us in the study."

Miss Lady looked up in pleased surprise.

"That settles it, Connie," she said; "you girls can play foryourselves. Come on and go to bed, Kiddie," and with Bertie at herheels, the new mistress of Queerington raced down the hall.

For ten years Doctor Queerington and Mr. Gooch had played pinochleevery Friday evening. The Doctor did not especially enjoy it, exceptas one of those incidents that grows acceptable by long repetition. Hewas a born routinist, regarding a well-regulated world as a placewhere everything ran in the same grooves to eternity. One of his chiefsources of satisfaction in regard to his second marriage was that itpromised not to interfere with those established laws which regulatedhis day, from the prompt breakfast at 7:15 to the long hours with hisbooks in the evening. In short, Doctor Queerington was a sort of well-regulated human clock, announcing his opinions as irrevocably as thestriker announces the hours, and ticking along so monotonously betweentimes that one almost forgot he was there.

If the Friday evening game was to him merely a habit, to Mr. Gooch itwas an occasion. Having once seated himself, and glanced around tomake sure his hand was not reflected in a mirror, he spread his cardsgingerly in his palm with only the corners visible, squared his jawand proceeded with solemnity to observe the full rigor of the game.There was no trifling with points, or replaying of tricks. Themarriage of kings and queens was solemnized without rejoicing, andeven the parade of a royal sequence brought no flush of triumph to hischeek, but moved him only to chronicle it in small, precise figures ina red morocco note-book which he always brought with him for thepurpose.

When Miss Lady came up to the study, after giving Bertie two encoresto "Jack the Giant Killer," she found the men silently absorbed intheir game. Sitting on a hassock at the Doctor's side, she tried tofollow the detailed explanation that he gave during each deal. But thejargon of "declarations," and "sequences," and "common marriages" soongrew wearisome, and she found herself idly studying the Doctor's fine,serious face, and listening for his low, flexible voice whichunconsciously softened when he spoke to her.

In spite of the fact that the study was very warm these sultrySeptember evenings, and the Doctor's mental strides much too long forher to keep pace, she nevertheless looked eagerly forward to the hoursspent there. If at times she failed to follow his elucidations, orgrew sleepy reading aloud from some well-thumbed classic, it was notbecause her admiration and respect for her husband were lessening. Infact, he was always at his best at this time, surrounded by the bookshe knew and loved, and expanding under the approbation of his oneappreciative listener. Here he reigned, a feudal lord, safe guarded inhis castle of books against that strange and formidable enemy, theWorld.

"Four aces, and pinocle," announced Mr. Gooch with grim satisfaction.

Miss Lady rose restlessly and went to the window in the alcove. Fromthe parlor below came the strains of a waltz and snatches of laughter;overhead the stars loomed big and white in the summer night. Shethought how strange and lonesome it must be out at Thornwood with thelights all out and the windows nailed up. The little night things weresinging in the garden by this time, and the cool breezes werebeginning to stir the treetops. She wondered how Mike was gettingalong without her, and a lump rose in her throat. She swallowedresolutely, and smiled confidently up at the stars. Her married lifewas not in the least what she had expected, but it would all work outfor the best. To be sure, nobody seemed to need her, nothing wasrequired of her, but she would make a place for herself, she_must_ make a place for herself. Perhaps if she had something to dobesides playing with Connie and her friends all day, she would getover this feeling of uselessness, and this haunting homesickness forthe hills and valleys, for her horses and dogs, and the old brickhouse among the trees.

Suddenly she caught her breath and listened:

"He's coming home," Mr. Gooch was saying in the room behind her. "Atleast, they've sent for him. Young Decker, who has just gotten back,says Morley will come on a stretcher rather than have people believethat he shot a man, then ran away. They had never heard a word of theindictment."

"As I expected," the Doctor said, shuffling the cards. "When does hereturn?"

"When he's able to travel, I suppose. Decker left him down with afever in a hospital in Singapore. He's done for himself, I am afraid."

"Very probably," said the Doctor. "Poor Donald! It's your lead."

Miss Lady slipped behind the curtain, and steadied herself by thewindow sill. Why had her heart almost stopped beating? Why was itbeating now as if it would strangle her? Why did the thought of DonaldMorley lying ill and friendless in a foreign hospital rouse everydesire in her to go to him at once at any cost? Waves of surprise andshame surged over her. She heard nothing, saw nothing, save the factthat something she thought was dead had come to life. She was wakeningfrom a long numb sleep, and the wakening was terrifying. Whatirremediable catastrophe had happened between now and that suprememoment when she had stood under the lilacs in the twilight with DonaldMorley's arms about her, his breath on her cheek, and his passionateplea: "Oh, if you only knew how I need you! I'll be anything underheaven for your sake if you'll only stand by me!"

"My game," said the Doctor. "Fortune has favored me. What became ofMiss Lady? The call of the young people down-stairs grew too strong, Ipresume."

Mr. Gooch, in a very bad humor over the loss of the last game,sullenly packed his deck of cards in the case with the red morocconote-book and made ready to take his departure. The Doctorautomatically placed the card table against the wall, arranged thechairs at their prefer angles, straightened a book on his desk, andturned out the lights, leaving a slim white figure with tremblinghands and terror-stricken eyes, cowering in the starlight behind theswaying curtains.

CHAPTER XIII

It was always an occasion of significance when Mr. and Mrs. BasilSequin found time in their busy lives to discuss a family matter.There was no particular lack of interest on either side, it was simplythat their hours did not happen to fit. When he was not at his club,she was at hers; when she was dining at home, he was detained at adirectors' meeting; when he went North to a Bankers' Convention, shewent South to attend a bridge tournament. So it was small wonder thebutler, removing the breakfast things, should have looked puzzled whenMr. and Mrs. Sequin remained at table in earnest conversation.

Mr. Sequin was a thin, stooped man, prematurely old at fifty. Theharassed, driven expression that was so habitual to his face hadplowed furrows that no lighter mood could now erase. His present mood,however, was not a light one. He sat with his hand shading his eyes,and scowled gloomily at the tablecloth.

"I told you a month ago," he was saying, "that you'd have to cut someof the expenses on the new house. We've already gone twenty thousandover the original estimate. There isn't a month now that our accountsare not overdrawn. Nothing has been said directly, but it is known onthe street. Nothing will be said, as long as it is understood that Iam to have the management of the Dillingham estate at the general'sdeath, but if this estrangement should continue between Margery andLee Dillingham--"

"Now, Basil!" Mrs. Sequin cried dramatically, "don't for mercy's saketake a nervous-prostration patient seriously. Margery is nothing but abunch of notions, and Cropsie Decker has gotten her all stirred upabout the injustice that has been done to Don. I won't even let hertalk to me about it, it's all so silly. What possible difference canit make who did the shooting? The boys are well out of the scrape andit's almost forgotten by this time. Young people who are engaged haveto have something to quarrel over; this won't amount to a row of pins.I am going right on making preparations for an early spring wedding.By the way, you know the bow window in the drawing-room? Well, I amhaving it made four feet wider so they can be married there facing theloggia, like this!"

Mrs. Sequin's two plump fingers did duty for the bride and groom, butMr. Sequin was not interested.

"I should not be surprised if Decker cabled Donald to come home. He'sin a great state of indignation over the fact that the blame was puton Don. You see, it is all a fresh issue with them."

"I'd be perfectly furious with Don," declared Mrs. Sequin, "if he cameback and got into a quarrel with Lee. Margery will be sure to take hispart; she's always so silly about Don. If she were well enough I'd betempted to rush the wedding through before Christmas. But then, wecouldn't have it in the new house, and I have practically built thatfirst floor for the wedding. Everything depends on our having itthere."

"Everything depends on our having it somewhere!" said Mr. Sequingrimly.

"Tell her to wait," said Mrs. Sequin without turning her head. "Whatdid you decide about the decorator's estimates, Basil?"

"Decide? What time have I to be considering decorations? Why can't youattend to it?"

"Why, indeed? I only have to attend to the alterations on the bowwindow, look at the new sketches for the garage, have a shampoo andmassage, lunch at the Weldems', take Fanchonette to the veterinary, befitted at three, and go to the Bartrums' at five. By all means, I'llattend to it. I'll give the order to Lefferan; he handles the mostexclusive designs."

"That's what we want," said Mr. Sequin, rising; "the most exclusiveand the most expensive. Our credit is good for a few months yet. Havethe small car at the bank at 6:30. I will not be home for dinner."

Mrs. Sequin sighed as he slammed the front door. There was no usedenying the fact that men were trying, even the best of them. Hadn'tCousin John Queerington, that paragon of perfection, toppled on hispedestal at the smile of an unsophisticated little country girl? Andthere was Basil, recognized as a veritable wizard of finance, waitinguntil the new house was almost completed, then getting panicky aboutthe cost. And now Donald, whom she thought safely anchored on theother side of the world, threatening to come home at the mostinopportune time and create no end of trouble!

"Excuse me, madam," said the butler, "but she says she ain't going towait another minute."

"Jenkins!" Mrs. Sequin raised her brows disapprovingly. "Send thatodious woman up to Miss Margery's room; I will see her there."

The room above the dining-room was one of those pink-and-white jumblesthat convention prescribes for debutantes. Garlands of pink rosesfestooned the paper, tied at intervals by enormous pink bows. Pinkbows and ruffles smothered the dresser and sewing table, and pink andwhite cushions filled the window seat. Cotillion favors, old dancecards, theater programs, were pinned to the heavy pink and whitecurtains that shut out the sunlight. Among the lace pillows of thebrass bed lay a languid, pale-faced girl, who stared up at the rose-entwined ceiling, as a prisoner might stare at her bars.

"Close the door, Myrtella," Mrs. Sequin said as they entered. "I ammortally afraid of drafts. Good morning, Margery. Where is your bluehat? I told Miss Lady to send up for it, because I am going to takeher to the Bartrums' this afternoon and I simply could not have herappear in that ridiculous little hat she wears all the time."

The girl in the bed turned a fretful face toward her mother:

"Why, Miss Lady promised to spend the afternoon with me. I've beenlooking forward to it for days."

"Yes, I know, dear, but I told her you weren't quite so well, and thatshe could come to-morrow. You see, she really can't afford to miss theBartrums' tea; it's the first entertainment this fall and everybodywill be there. I know you think Mrs. Bartrum a little gay, but youcan't deny she runs that younger set."

"Here's the hat," said Mrs. Sequin, handing a large hat box toMyrtella, then noting her offended expression she added by way ofpropitiation: "I don't know how they would get along without you atthe Doctor's. I hear that the new mistress doesn't know a saucepanfrom a skillet."

"She ain't no fool," returned Myrtella instantly on the defensive.

"Of course not, just young and careless. I dare say she doesn't evenorder the groceries, does she?"

"No, mam."

"Nor plan for the meals?"

"No, mam."

"And you attend to everything just as if she weren't there? It'sreally too funny, isn't it, Margery? Tell Mrs. Queerington that I'llsend the motor for her at five; and do see that she is properly hookedup."

Myrtella succeeded in getting herself and the box silently out of theroom, but the butler passing her on the back stairs was startled by averbal shower that was not in the least intended for him. It was as ifa watering cart had suddenly and unexpectedly turned on its supplyregardless of its surroundings.

At five o'clock Miss Lady, very radiant and apparently in highspirits, presented herself at the Sequins'.

"May I come in just for a minute?" she asked at Margery's door. "I'vebrought you some chrysanthemums. Uncle Jimpson brought them in fromThornwood this morning. It's too bad you aren't so well."

Margery turned admiring eyes on the bright face above her.

"I'm no worse," she said, "just disappointed. I thought I was going tohave you all to myself this afternoon."

"But I didn't know you could have me! I'll run in and tell yourmother."

Mrs. Sequin, who was being insinuated into a very tight gown by thesheer physical prowess of her maid, exclaimed with satisfaction asMiss Lady entered:

"There, I knew it! The hat makes the costume. You are perfect! Now,remember the people I want you to be especially nice to, Mrs. Gibbs,Mrs. Marchmont--"

"The silly old woman that paints her face and wears the pearls likemoth balls? She drove around yesterday to tell me the name of herhairdresser. It's always the people that haven't any hair that want tohave it dressed."

"Miss Lady! She is Mrs. Leslie Marchmont, the most sought after womanin town!"

"I don't care, her horses look as if they had been fed on cornstalks."

"But you mustn't say such things! You must cultivate discretion. Ifyou want me to introduce you to the right people--"

"But they may not be the right people for me! Some of them are lovely,but I can't stand the affected ones, nor the ones that patronize me."

"But they won't patronize you if you are a little more reserved.There's no earthly reason for your telling them that you keep only oneservant, and saying that you come from Billy-goat Hill. It's a horridname given our beautiful hillside, by horrid people. You see, youreally must cultivate more caution. You are,--what shall I say? toofrank, too natural."

Miss Lady laughed. "I haven't the least idea how to go about beingunnatural, but, thank heaven, I don't have to learn to-day! Margery isfeeling better and is going to let me stay with her."

"That's absurd! You are all ready to go, and I want Mrs. Bartrum tosee you for the first time just as you look now. Where are yourgloves?"

"I forgot them, but it doesn't matter, I'm not going."

"I'll send Jenkins for them at once."

Miss Lady's cheek flushed and she looked at Mrs. Sequin in perplexity,then her brow cleared.

"You are afraid I'll stay too long and wear Margery out? I promise togo the minute she looks tired. You can trust her with me, can't you?"

"Oh, I did a little. But I think that was because you and Connie andMargery said I looked nice. I'm awfully squeezed and uncomfortable; Iwonder if Margery can't lend me a dressing sacque?"

Thus it was that Mrs. Sequin went off to the Bartrums' in a very badhumor, leaving the two girls chattering together in the pink boudoir,with the nurse banished to the lower regions.

"Don't you want some fresh air?" asked Miss Lady, when she had stoodthe heat as long as she could.

"You may open the door," said Margery, "we never leave the window upon account of drafts."

"But I can wrap you up, and put the screen up. There! You can't takecold with all that on. It's the kind of day that makes me want to beon a horse, galloping through the woods with the wind in my face."

Margery watched Miss Lady's quick motion as she opened all the windowsbehind the ruffled curtains, and let in a current of freshinvigorating air.

"How young you are!" she said. "Years and years younger than I feel. Ican't realize you are married and have three step-children."

"Neither can I," said Miss Lady. "I'm always forgetting it. Wouldn'tyou like to sit up for a while?"

"Oh! I can't. I have to lie perfectly quiet."

"Who said so?"

"Everybody does who has nervous prostration. The doctors say that mynerves are nothing but quivering wires. I suppose I went too hard lastwinter, but of course I couldn't drop out in the middle of my firstseason."

"I don't believe it would hurt you a bit to sit up. If I fix that bigrocker will you try it?"

"But I haven't sat up for six weeks. When I try it in bed I have suchtingly sensations."

"That's because your legs are straight out. Let's try it in the chair,with them hanging down."

"I'll try it, but I know I can't stand it. There! Thank you so much!You wouldn't think that a year ago I was as strong as you are! Why,between October and March I went to over a hundred and fiftyentertainments, besides the theaters and opera."

"Good heavens!" cried Miss Lady aghast.

"Of course, about New Year's, I began to wobble, but mother had metake massage and electricity and kept me going until Lent. After thatI collapsed until summer. Then we went to White Sulphur, where theDillinghams have a cottage, I had to lie down every afternoon, but Iwas always able to be up for the dances."

The nurse coming in with a long flower box, paused in surprise at thesight of her patient sitting up, then discreetly tiptoed out again.

"Somebody has sent you some flowers!" cried Miss Lady excitedly. "Hownice! Shall I open the box?"

"Just as you like. They are probably from Lee. He sends them nowinstead of coming."

"But there may be a note," said Miss Lady, searching in the tissuepaper.

Margery shook her head wearily; the little animation that had flushedher face, died out leaving it wan and listless.

"I suppose you think this is a queer way for an engaged girl to talk,"she said presently, with a nervous catch in her voice. "The truth isLee and I have quarreled over my uncle, Donald Morley. I will neverforgive him for the way he has treated Don; never!"

"You will if you love him," said Miss Lady.

"But I'm not sure that I do!" burst out Margery. "I oughtn't to sayit! I shan't say it again, but I shall die if I don't talk tosomebody. Mother won't listen to a word. She says it's nerves. But thetruth is, Miss Lady, I've never been sure; that's what's making meill!"

"Have you told him?"

"Yes, and he laughs at me. He may be right, they all may be right.When I get well I may laugh at myself. But just now it seems soterrible for the preparations to be going on while I'm lying here,night after night, fighting down the doubts, trying to persuademyself, trying to be sure. How can you tell when you are in love? Howdo you know?"

Miss Lady's hand that had been softly stroking the girl's thin whitefingers, paused; her eyes sought the open window, and she drew a shortbreath.

"Know?" she repeated as if to herself. "How do you know when you arecold, when you are hungry, when you're tired, when you're lonesome?How do you know that you want air when you are smothering? Everythingabout you tells you, your heart, your mind, your body, your soul. Youcan't help knowing!"

"But suppose I don't feel like that! And suppose I should, some day,for some one else! Oh! Miss Lady tell me what to do! Everybody else isrushing me on, telling me not to worry, not to be afraid. But you arenot like the others, you consider something more than the outsideadvantages to be gained. Tell me, what would you do in my place?"

"I'd wait for the real one to come," cried Miss Lady, turning upon heralmost fiercely, "I'd wait, if it was forever! They have no right topersuade you. You either love or you don't love and no power on earthcan make it different. You can laugh at sentiment and pretend youdon't believe in it, you can tell yourself a thousand times that youare doing the sensible thing. You can blind yourself utterly to thetruth for a time. But some day you've got to realize that the onlyreal thing in life is love, and that you are powerless to make it liveor die."

After that they sat a long time in silence, until Miss Lady roseabruptly and, making some excuse, took a hurried departure. She wasfrightened at what she had said, at what she had thought. She wasterrified at this strange, new self, that spoke out of a strange, newexperience, and set at naught all her carefully acquired opinions. Itwas not until she reached home after a brisk walk through the crispair, that the turmoil in her brain subsided.

On the hall table, beside a well-worn copy of Shelley, lay theDoctor's gloves and soft gray hat. She seized the gloves impulsivelyand laid them against her cheek.

"Needn't mind finishing, Mis' Squeerington, you was goin' to say ahouse girl. If you think I'd share my room with any Dutch or Irishbiddy, I must say you're mighty mistaken! Besides, ain't I givin'satisfaction? Ain't I doin' the work to suit you?"

"Of course you are, but I thought you--"

"Was gettin' old, I suppose, and couldn't do as much work as I usedto. I look feeble, don't I?"

"Well, what's the trouble then?" she asked kindly. "Why do you want toleave?"

Myrtella's eyes shifted as she rubbed some imaginary dust from thedoor:

"I ain't used to working fer a lady that don't take no holt. It don'tseem natural, and it leaves folks room to talk."

"But I thought you wanted to have full charge and run things just asyou have done in the past."

"Well, it don't look right fer you not to be givin' me no orders, norrowin' the grocery man, nor lightin' into nobody. If folks didn't knowbetter they'd think you wasn't used to bein' a lady!"

Miss Lady bit her lip to keep from laughing. "I'll be only too gladto keep house, only I don't know much about it. Aunt Caroline andUncle Jimpson did everything out home, and you've done everythinghere."

"Well, I ain't goin' to no longer," said Myrtella firmly. "If you wantto light in and learn, I'll learn you. But I ain't going to stayexcept on one condition, you got to take a holt of everything! You gotto lock things up and give me out what I need. You got to order allthe meals and tell me what you want done every mornin'. I ain't goin'to have people throwin' it in my face that I work for a lady thatdon't know a skillet from a saucepan!"

"You're right, Myrtella," said Miss Lady, her face grown suddenlygrave. "I don't wonder you are ashamed of me. Perhaps some good hardwork will brush the cobwebs out of my brain. When shall I take chargeof things, to-morrow?"

"As you say," said Myrtella meekly; then with a sudden flare, "thoughit does look like I might be trusted one more day to finish up thegeneral cleaning and git after the ashman for not emptyin' thembarrels."

"Friday, then?"

"Friday," said Myrtella as one who signed her own death warrant, andthe young mistress gazing absently out of the window little guessedthat a powerful usurper was voluntarily abdicating a throne in orderthat the rightful owner might come into her own.

CHAPTER XIV

The red lamps were all lighted in Mrs. Ivy's small parlor, and thedisordered tea-table and general confusion of the overcrowded room,gave evidence that one of her frequent "at homes" had been brought toan end.

It might have been inferred that the hostess had also been brought toan end, to judge from her closed eyes and clasped hands, and theeffort with which she inhaled her breath and the violence with whichshe exhaled it. The maid, clearing away the tea things, viewed herwith apprehension.

"Excuse me, ma'm, but will you be havin' the hot-water bag?" she askedwhen she could endure the strain no longer.

Mrs. Ivy opened one reluctant eye and condescended to recall herspirit to the material world.

"Norah, how could you?" she asked plaintively. "Haven't I begged younever to disturb my meditation?"

"Yis, ma'm, but this, you might say, was worse than usual. Me mother'stwin sister died of the asthmy."

"Never speak to me when you see me entering into the silence. I wasdenying fatigue; now I shall have to begin all over!"

It was evidently difficult for Mrs. Ivy to again tranquilize herspirit. Her eyes roved fondly about the room, resting first upon onecherished object then upon another. Autographed photographs lined thewalls, autographed volumes littered the tables. Above her head twosmall bronze censers sent wreaths of incense curling about a vasttestimonial, acknowledging her valiant service in behalf of the anti-tobacco crusade. Flanking this were badges of divers shape and size,representing societies to which she belonged. In the cabinet at herleft were still more disturbing treasures such as Gerald's first pairof shoes, and the gavel that the last president of the FederatedSisterhood had used before she had, as Mrs. Ivy was fond of saying,"been called upon to hand in her resignation by the Board of Death."

Before the error of fatigue had been entirely erased from her mentalstate, her eyes fell upon a pamphlet, and she immediately becameabsorbed in its contents. It set forth the need for a Home forCrippled Animals, and by the time she reached the second page she wasframing a motion to be presented to her club on the morrow. Mrs. Ivywas greatly addicted to motions; in fact, it was one of her missionsin life continually to move that things should be other than theywere, without in any way supplying the motive power to change them.

While thus engaged she was interrupted by a belated caller. He was ashort, heavy-set young man, with a square prominent jaw, and a twinklein his eye.

"It's dope," said Decker, with an easy laugh. "Chinese dope. I've hadthese clothes cleaned twice, and I can't get rid of it. Had them onone night in an opium den in Hankow. Funny how that smell stays withyou."

"An opium den?" repeated Mrs. Ivy, lifting a protesting hand. "And isno effort being made to stamp out such iniquities in China? Might notsome concerted action on the part of the women's clubs in all theChristian countries create a public sentiment against them?"

Decker bit his lip as he stooped to pick up the leaflet she haddropped.

"Gerald's here I suppose?"

"Of course! How thoughtless of me not to explain that I always insistupon the dear lad resting between four and five. He inherits delicatelungs from his father, and an emotional, artistic temperament from me.Then both of his maternal grandparents had heart trouble."

"Still hammers away at his music, I suppose?" Decker asked, minutelyinspecting the photograph of a meek-looking female who appearedtotally unable to live up to the bold, aggressive signature with whichshe had signed herself.

"Dear Miss Snell," Mrs. Ivy explained, "corresponding secretary of theA. T. L. A. If you had _only_ come sooner you could have met her. Whatwere you asking? Oh, yes! about Gerald's music. Why, you could no moreimagine Gerald without music, than you could think of a bird withoutwings. He would simply perish without a piano. When we are abroad werent one if we are only going to be in a place ten days. His Papacan't understand this, but then Mr. Ivy is not musical, poor dear; hereally doesn't know a fugue from a fantasie."

"Neither do I," said Decker. "Do the Queeringtons still live nextdoor?"

"Yes. You know our beloved Doctor has married again."

"What! Good old Syllogism Queerington! you don't mean it! I wonder ifhe knows her first name? He taught me four years up at the Universityand never could remember mine."

"Oh! here's my boy! Are you feeling better, dear?" Mrs. Ivy turnedexpectant eyes to the door where a lean, loosely put together youngman was just entering. He had the slouching gait that indicatesrelaxed ambitions as well as relaxed muscles, and his hands were deepin his pockets as if they were at home there.

Gerald Ivy dropped gracefully on the sofa, and became absorbed inexamining his nails. He was rather a handsome if anemic youth, withthe general air of one who has weighed the world and found it wanting.His eyes, large and brown and effective, swept the room restlessly.They were accomplished eyes, being capable of expressing more emotionsin a moment than Gerald had felt in a lifetime.

As he idly turned the leaves of a magazine, he asked Decker how longhe had been back in America.

"A couple of months, but I've only been in town two weeks. Sorry tohear you are under the weather."

"Don't worry about Dill, Mater. He has more than one cup to fall backon. It is old man Sequin that may do something desperate. I hear theyhave made no end of a row, but Margery holds her own."

"They say on the street," said Decker, "that Mr. Sequin has beencounting on the Dillinghams' money to reinforce the bank. He's beengoing it pretty heavy the last two years."

"One cannot live by bread alone," quoted Mrs. Ivy; "our friends havebeen living the material life, they have forgotten that they are butstewards, and as stewards will be held accountable for the way theyuse their wealth. Mrs. Sequin makes absolutely no effort to advancethe progress of the world. She has refused from the first to join theA.T.L.A. and she is not even a member of the Woman's Club."

"Well, I hope Mr. Sequin hasn't been playing with Don Morley's money,"said Decker, resuming the subject from which Mrs. Ivy had flown off ata tangent. "Donald has always left everything to him, and doesn't knowanything more about his investments than I do. All he is concernedwith is spending his income, and that keeps him busy."

At this moment Norah appeared with fresh tea and cakes, making her waywith some difficulty through the labyrinth of red lamps, small tables,foot-stools and marble-crowned pedestals that crowded the room.

"Ah!" cried Mrs. Ivy, "here are some of the little cakes, Gerald, thatyou love. You will try one, won't you? We have the greatest timetempting his appetite, Mr. Decker. He can only eat what he likes. Ihave always contended with his father that there was some physicalcause for his craving sweets. I never refused them to him when he wasa child. But from the time he was born he has never really lived onfood, he has lived on music."

Gerald, at the moment regaling himself with his second cake, gaveevidence that he did not rely solely on the sustaining power of music.

"And now, will you excuse me, dear Mr. Decker?" asked Mrs. Ivy,gathering her lavender skirts about her. "I am a very, very busywoman, and my desk claims much of my time. You will come to us again,won't you? Gerald's friends, you know, are my friends. _Good_-by." Andwith a tender pressure of the hand, and a lingering look she was gone.

Gerald waited until the door was closed, then produced cigaretteswhich he proffered to Decker.

"Mater's last hobby is tobacco," he smiled indulgently. "She is goingto abolish it from the universe. Do you remember how DoctorQueerington used to hold forth on the subject at the university?"

"By the way, your mother tells me he has married again. I don't knowwhy, but that tickles me. Was she a widow?"

Gerald with his elbows on the arms of his chair and holding his teacupwith both hands just below the level of his eyes, looked suddenlygloomy.

"No," he said. "I wish to Heaven she was one!"

"What's the matter with Old Syllogism? I always thought he was arather good sort."

"I'm not thinking about him!" Gerald said impatiently. "I am thinkingof the girl. She can't be much older than I am and the most exquisitething you ever beheld. Her coloring is absolutely luminous. She oughtto be painted by Besnard or La Touche or some of those French chapsthat make a specialty of light. She positively radiates!"

"How did she ever happen to marry the Doctor?"

"Heaven knows! He captured her in the woods somewhere. I don't supposeshe had ever seen a man before. Jove! You ought to see her playtennis, and to hear her laugh. She's a perfect wonder, as free andeasy as one of the boys, but straight as a die. Doesn't give a flipfor money or clothes, or society. Did you ever hear of a really prettygirl being like that?"

"I hope Doctor Queerington likes her as well as you do."

"Heavens, man! everybody likes her; you can't help it. But nobodyunderstands her. You see they look on her as a child; they haven't thefaintest conception of what she is going through."

"And you think you have?"

"I know it. She's trying to adjust herself, and she can't. She'sfinding out her mistake and making a game fight to hide it. When shefirst came she went in for everything. She had never played tennis orgolf, and she got more fun out of learning than anybody I ever saw.Then suddenly she stopped. Some old desiccated relative told theDoctor it didn't look well for his wife to be running around with theyoung people, and that settled it. She gave up like an angel, andshe's not the kind that likes to give up either. Now her days aredevoted to the heavy domestic, and her evenings to improving her mindin the Doctor's stuffy old study."

"Talking to the Doctor," confessed Decker, "always affected me likelooking at Niagara Falls; grand, and imposing and awe-inspiring, but alittle goes a long way. How is she standing it?"

"Getting thinner and paler and prettier every day. She's a countrygirl, you know, used to horses, and outdoor exercise. She must havebeen beastly homesick, but she's game through and through. It wasawfully hard for her to bluff at first. That's because she is sohonest. But she has had to learn. No woman, good or bad, can getthrough life without learning to bluff, only it comes harder for thegood ones. What's that confounded racket in the street?"

They rose and went to the window, Gerald looking over the shoulder ofhis shorter companion.

A superannuated gray mule hitched to a heavy cart had come to astandstill in the middle of the street, and a group of excited negroeswere vainly trying to induce him to move on. With one ear cockedforward, and his forefeet firmly planted, the decrepit animal dumblymade his declaration of independence, taking the blows that rainedupon his back with the dogged heroism of one who has resolved to dierather than surrender.

"By Jupiter, if those coons aren't fixing to build a fire under him!"exclaimed Decker. "They'd rather fool with a balking mule than eatwatermelon! Let's go out to see the sport."

When Decker reached the porch, having left Gerald at the hall mirror,inspecting his face with minute solicitude, a new figure had appearedon the scene. It was a girl dressed in white, standing in theQueeringtons' yard, and as he looked he saw her suddenly dart out ofthe gate and into the street as if she had been shot from a cannon.

"Stop pulling his head like that!" she demanded. "Don't you dare tostrike him again. Take that fire away!"

The negroes fell back somewhat astonished, and the driver arrested hiswhip in the air.

"I'll show you how to make him go," she went on; "put mud in hismouth. Yes, mud, a big lump of mud. There, that'll do; make it into aball, and put it in. Yes, you can! Oh, dear! Give it to me!"

She seized the mule's lower jaw with her thumb and forefinger, andwith a deft movement succeeded in getting the unwelcome substancebetween the animal's teeth.

The mule evinced surprise, then curiosity. His fore feet relaxed, hiseye lost its fire, and when a gentle pressure fell upon his halter, hewas too engrossed in the new sensation to resist it.

"Bravo, Miss Lady!" called Gerald, sauntering forward to meet her. "Itold you you were irresistible. What did you whisper in his ear?"

"Lots of things!" she said, accepting his immaculate handkerchief towipe the mud from her hands, "but of course the mud helped. UncleJimpson taught me that trick. He says a mule has room in his head foronly one thought at a time, and all you have to do is to change hisbalking thought for some other and he'll go."

"I hope you will never have to put mud in my mouth," said Gerald,looking at her with no attempt to conceal his admiration. "Can't youcome over and see mother for a bit? She'd love to give you a cup oftea."

"I don't like tea in the afternoon; it spoils my supper." "Well, then,come over to see me. There's a friend of mine I want you to meet. I'vebeen telling him about you."

"Yes, I do; the special correspondent for the _Herald-Post_. Is thatsufficient inducement?"

Miss Lady looked at him rather strangely. "I'll come," she said aftera moment's hesitation.

They did not return to the parlor but to the music-room, a large roomon the opposite side of the hall, which Mrs. Ivy, a firm believer inthe psychological effect of color, had fitted out in blue to induce acontemplative mood in the occupants. On the mantel and tables were thesame miscellaneous collection of bric-a-brac that characterized theparlor. Several pictures of Gerald adorned the walls, the mostimposing of which presented him seated at the piano, with his motherstanding beside him, a rapt expression on her elevated profile.

Miss Lady flitted about from object to object, asking questions, notwaiting for answers, seeing everything, commenting on everything whilethe two young men stood side by side on the hearth rug and watchedher. She was like a humming-bird afraid to light.

"Please, Mrs. Queerington," Gerald begged at last. "You know you don'tcare for those old kodaks. I'll show them to you another time. I wantyou to talk to Decker. Sit down here in this big chair and I'll sit atyour feet, where I belong, and Cropsie'll sit anywhere he likes andtell us about his adventures."

"But where's your mother? I thought you said she was serving tea?"

"She'll be down directly. Now, tell us a story, Decker. A man can'twander around the Orient for a year without having something excitinghappen to him."

"I'm afraid I haven't an experiencing nature," said Decker, smiling."You ought to have Morley here. He's the fellow that went over withme, Mrs. Queerington. I'll back him against the field for havingadventures. You remember that big fire last year in Tokyo? Don was thefirst Johnny on the spot, doing the noble hero act, dragging out womenand children and gallantly fighting the flames, while I lay up in bedat the Imperial Hotel and fought mosquitoes! He was in a collision atsea, just off the coast of Korea, got mixed up in a Chinese uprisingin Nanking and was arrested for a spy while taking pictures of thefortifications at Miyajima. If I had half his luck I'd be the highestpriced man in the syndicate."

"I don't know that I particularly envy him his luck in the incidentthat happened here just before he left," said Gerald, lighting a freshcigarette.

"It was nothing to his discredit," said Decker hotly. "He happened tobe a witness when that fool Dillingham got into a shooting scrape, andhe left town because he did not want to testify against the man hisniece was going to marry. He didn't consider the consequences, henever does. It was a toss up when I met him in 'Frisco whether hewould come home, or go on."

"Didn't he know he was indicted?" asked Gerald.

"Certainly not. Neither of us knew it until I got home and foundpeople talking about 'Poor Donald Morley,' and acting as if he were arefugee from justice. Two or three letters came from Mrs. Sequin, butshe was so busy urging Don to stay away that she hadn't time to writeanything else. We did get one old home paper, somewhere in Java, withan account of the trial. That was the first intimation Don had thatDillingham was throwing off on him. Even then he could scarcelybelieve it; there's nothing in him to understand a man like LeeDillingham."

"But he was with him,--that night at the saloon," ventured Miss Lady,sitting up very straight and listening very intently.

Gerald smiled skeptically. "He went in out of the rain, my dear lady;that's what he wrote home, I understand; and he didn't indulge in asingle drink. Rather a strain on the imagination in the light ofsubsequent events."

"See here, Ivy," said Decker, rising and standing before the fire withhis square jaw thrust out, and the twinkle gone from his eye. "Ihappen to know this story from beginning to end, and we both know DonMorley. He's as full of faults as a porcupine is of quills, but he'sneither a liar nor a coward. If he says he was sober that night I'dstake my life he was."

There was an uncomfortable pause during which Gerald tenderly felt hisafflicted face, and Decker glared at the chandelier.

"He ought to have stayed to explain," said Miss Lady, not daring tolook up; "a man's first duty is to himself and--and to those who carefor him."

"That was the trouble," said Decker slowly. "It seems that the oneperson Don cared most about wouldn't listen to an explanation. Hewrote her full particulars, and asked her to telegraph him if heshould go or stay. When I met him in 'Frisco he had been waiting forthat wire for three days, and he was nearly off his head. I got him onthe steamer almost by main force. We laid over ten days in Honolulu,and he got the notion that a letter would be waiting for him inYokohama, and that he would take the next steamer home. All the wayacross I heard about that girl from the time the Chino brought ourcoffee in the morning until we went below again for the night. He allbut said his prayers to her; cut out everything to drink; even refusedto play a friendly game of poker. Why, I've tramped so many decks tothe tune of that girl's charms that I could write a book about her."

"What is her name?" asked Gerald greatly interested.

"Heavens, I don't know! She was a wood nymth, a dryad, a jewel, aflower, I could keep it up indefinitely. He had a new one for herevery day. When we reached Japan, he couldn't wait for the steamer todock but went ashore in the pilot boat, and made a bee line forCook's. There was nothing there. It was like that at every port wetouched. Each time he would get his hopes up to fever heat, and eachtime he'd be disappointed. I never saw such perseverance and belief.He made excuse after excuse for her. He was too proud to write again,and he got leaner and leaner and more and more homesick. You know thatcollision I spoke of? Well, he got in that by waiting over a steamerat Nagasaki in the hope of getting a letter before he left Japan."

"Hardly. The smash came just before I left him, a couple of monthsago. We were at Raffles Hotel in Singapore having tea with some Frenchgirls from the steamer. Our purser happened along and gave Don aletter which I recognized as being from Mrs. Sequin. He read the firstsheet, then looked up in a wild sort of way, and asked if we'd mindexcusing him as he had something he wanted to see to before thesteamer sailed. At five o'clock he'd never shown up, and I had tohustle our bags ashore and start out to look for him. He'd beenawfully seedy for a couple of months and when he got left I knewsomething serious had happened. I found him late that night in theforeign hospital out of his head with a fever. It seems the letter hadtold him that his girl was going to be married, and half besidehimself he had gotten into a rikisha, and ridden for hours in thetropical sun, trying to face the fact. Of course in the run-down statehe was in, it put him out of business, and by the time he got back toRaffles', he didn't know who he was, nor where he was. I stayed withhim until the _Herald-Post_ sent for me to come home. Maybe you don'tthink I hated to leave the old chap, in that God-forsaken country,lying flat on his back, staring at the ceiling, with all his illusionssmashed."

"Did he want to come with you?" asked Gerald.

"He didn't want anything. He had wanted one thing so long there was nomore want left in him. I tried to get him to let me engage passage forhim on the next home-bound steamer. But he said he doubted if he'dever come back, that as soon as he was able to travel he would go onaround the world, and that it didn't make much difference where helanded."

But Miss Lady did not hear him, she was still leaning forward absorbedin Decker's narrative.

"If he comes home, in answer to your cable, when can he get here?" sheasked.

"Not before Christmas I should say."

"If I were Lee Dillingham I should go South for the winter," Geraldsaid, going to the piano and striking a few random chords.

After Cropsie Decker left, Miss Lady sat very quiet in the big chair,while Gerald played to her. It was well that only the kindly old bustof Liszt looked down on her tense white face, and clasped hands.

For over two months she had been fighting a specter, never daring tolift her eyes to it, but fighting it blindly, passionately,unceasingly. She had denied its existence, refuted every memory,filled her life to the brim with other interests, other affections,and here suddenly she had met it face to face, and it was no longerhorrible, but a beautiful, radiant vision, a thing to be buried in herinnermost being, a sacred, solemn thing, not to be looked at, or dweltupon, but no longer to be denied.

The stormy, insistent strains of the "Appassionata" filled the room,surging through every fiber of her, lifting and abasing her by turns.How could she get hold of herself while Gerald played like that? Shewas sinking in a great sea of emotion and the music swept about herlike a mighty gale, shutting out everything in the world but DonaldMorley. He had not failed her, it was she who had failed him. He wascoming home, and it was too late. She would have to meet him face toface, to see all that he had suffered in his eyes and speak no word.Surely she might give him this one hour, just while the music lasted;give it to him and to herself for the lifetime together they hadmissed.

She did not know when the music stopped, she did not know when Geraldcame back to the hassock at her feet. He had evidently been there sometime when she was aware of his elbow on the arm of her chair, and hishead buried in it.

"Gerald!" she said, starting up; "what's the matter?"

"Everything. Is that your trouble?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that you are unhappy," he said, catching her hand.

She sprang to her feet and snapped on the electric lights.

"Do I look as if I were unhappy?" she demanded, flashing on him herold, bright smile. "It was the music, and the twilight, and the wayyou played. That sonata ought never to be played except in a crowdedroom with all the lights on."

"It wasn't the music," Gerald persisted; "you know it wasn't.Something's troubling you, and something is troubling me. May I tellyou what is the matter with me, Miss Lady?"

He was looking at her very intently across the table, and Miss Ladyfor the first time recognized the danger signals in his eyes.

"Let me guess!" she cried, her wits springing to her rescue. "I thinkI know. I thought so when I first came in. It's mumps!"

Gerald's hand flew instinctively to his face, and his eyes sought themirror. Miss Lady, in applying to Gerald Ivy, Uncle Jimpson's remedyfor a balking mule, had averted a disaster.

CHAPTER XV

Time was an abstraction of which the inhabitants of Bean Alley tooklittle notice. The arbitrary division of one's life into weeks anddays and hours seemed, on the whole, useless. There was but one dayfor the men, and that was pay day, and one for the women, and that wasrent day. As for the children, every day was theirs, just as it shouldbe in every corner of the world.

On this particular fall afternoon, just outside Phineas Flathers'cottage, a lively game was in progress. It was a game known in BeanAlley as "Sockabout," and it had to do with caps or battered hats laidin a row, and with a small rubber ball that was thrown into them froma distance. Like many other apparently simple diversions, Sockabouthad its complexities. In fact, the rules admitted of so manyinterpretations that an umpire was indispensable.

Under ordinary circumstances Chick Flathers would have scorned sopassive a role as umpire, but to-day he was handicapped. In the firstplace he had no cap to contribute to the row on the ground, and in thesecond he was burdened with a very large and wriggly bundle, whichgave evidence of marked disfavor the moment he ceased to jolt itviolently on his knees.

In the midst of an unusually fierce altercation, in which four boyscontended for the same cap, Skeeter Sheeley's voice rose above theclamor.

The youngest resident of Bean Alley was probably saved from prematuredeath by the timely appearance of two ladies at the far end of thestreet.

Chick, recognizing the younger one, started joyfully to meet her, butat sight of her companion he stopped short. For two years he hadregarded that plump, smiling, elderly lady as his arch enemy. She wasafter him. She wanted to put him in something that sounded like "TheWillows Awful Home." Once she had almost gotten him, but Aunt 'Tellainterposed. He was not afraid of the truant officer, nor of the cop,although they were generally after him, too, but he had horriblenightmares in which he saw himself being dragged into captivity bythis bland lady in the purple dress, who always smiled.

Just as he was seeking a hiding-place sufficiently large toaccommodate himself and his charge, he was summoned home. Considerablecommotion was apparent in the crowded kitchen and Mr. Flathers wasmoving about with an alacrity unusual to him.

"Git off your shoes and stockings, Chick, and turn your coat insideout. Here, I'll hold the baby; yer Mammy's nursing the other one.Shove that beer can under the stove, and hide that there cuckooclock."

Chick followed instructions with the air of one who understood thesituation. It was not the first time he had prepared hurriedly forvisitors.

"They're stopping at Jireses'," reported Mr. Flathers from the window."Here, take this kid and set out there on the door-step. Don't youdare budge till they've saw you and spoke to you."

Chick resumed his position on the door-step with a heavy heart. Theline of battle had been pushed south, and he was completely out of thefiring line.

His bare feet and legs were cold in the biting November air, and hehad jolted the baby until he felt there were no more jolts left inhim. It was, moreover, a terrifying business to sit there and calmlywait his fate.

"Them's them!" announced Skeeter Sheeley, racing down the alley. "Theygive Mr. Jires some oranges. If they give you one, you goin' to gimmehalf?"

Chick was too miserable to answer. The bars of an institution seemedto be already closing upon him.

Mrs. Ivy, holding her skirts very high and picking her way gingerlyaround the frozen puddles, was the first to reach him.

"Ah! Here's our good little friend Rick, or Dick, is it? And this isthe sweet little baby sister that God sent you."

"Naw it ain't," said Skeeter; "that there's a boy, an' it ain't no kinto him. Its paw's in the pen, an' its maw's up fer ninety days, an'its jes' boardin' at his house."

"The case that was reported for the Home," said Mrs. Ivy, turning witha significant nod to her companion who had just come up.

At the word "home" Chick shuddered. It was the most terrible word inthe English language to him.

She relieved Chick of the young person whose parents were not in aposition to minister to his wants, and sat on the door-step betweenthe two boys, listening with flattering attention to a detaileddescription of each hero's wounds and scars and how they had beenreceived.

Mrs. Ivy, meanwhile, a veritable spider in the midst of a web ofinstitutions, was warily planning to ensnare every helpless, poverty-stricken fly that came her way. To her, the web was not made for thefly, but the fly for the web; supplying flies was her chiefoccupation.

Standing just inside the kitchen door with her skirts still gatheredcarefully about her, she viewed her surroundings with mournfulsympathy.

"The fact are," Phineas was saying as he held his coat together at thecollar, in a pretended effort to conceal his lack of a shirt, "that weain't been prosperin' since you was last here. Looks like the hand ofthe Lord--"

"Ah, Mr. Flathers," remonstrated Mrs. Ivy, with a finger on her lip,"never forget that whom He loveth He chasteneth."

"I don't, Mrs. Ivy, I don't. I keep that in mind. If it wasn't ferthat, Mrs. Ivy, I declare I don't know what I would do. Now you comin'to-day was a answer to prayer! I just ast that some way would bepervided 'fore the rent man come back at six o'clock. I didn't say inmy prayer _what_ way, I just said _a_ way, that _a_ way would bepervided. And when I seen you and the young lady turnin' in the alley,I sez to Maria, 'never try to shake my faith no more, the clouds hasbeen lifted!'"

Mrs. Ivy, who was much more given to dispensing morals than money,shifted her position.

"Mr. Flathers," she said, looking at him with what she conceived to bea searching glance, "do you ever drink?"

Assuring himself that Chick had gotten the can quite out of sight,Phineas looked at her reproachfully:

"Me? Why, Mrs. Ivy, I thought everybody knowed that since I joined theChurch--of course I ain't denying that there _was_ a time when Iknowed the taste of liquor. There ain't no good denying that, and,besides confession is good fer me, it humbles my spirit, Mrs. Ivy, itkeeps me from being a publican."

"And tobacco?" queried Mrs. Ivy. "Liquor and tobacco go hand in hand,they are twin evils. Are you addicted to the use of tobacco?"

"Not me!" said Phineas, truthfully for once. "I ain't soiled my lipswith a seegar for over twenty years, and you couldn't git me to chewif you chloroformed me. Ef liquor is the drink, terbaccer is the foodof the devil, as I see it." Mrs. Ivy beamed upon him, as she openedthe silver bag at her belt. "I shall report your case at our nextmeeting," she said with enthusiasm. "I shall quote your very words.And now I am going to pin this little badge on you, this little whitebadge that tells the world you belong to the Anti-Tobacco League. Youhave the honor of wearing what few of our greatest statesmen can wear!You have proven that a humble laborer can lead the way to Reform."

Miss Lady appeared at this point with the Boarder, who like mostindividuals of his class, complained continuously of the quantity andquality of his food.

"You find us in a bad way, Mis' Squeerington," Phineas said, offeringher a bottomless chair with the air of a Christian martyr. "If mysister Myrtella knowed the half of what we was passin' through shewouldn't continue to steel her heart against us."

"She does, mam, in a way. But there's heavy expenses on a pore manwith a family. Mrs. Flathers now ain't been able to have a see-ancesince before the baby come. She did give one trance settin' yesterday,but she says she don't know what's got into her, she feels so sort ofweak like!"

"How long has she been taking care of this other baby?" Miss Ladyasked.

"Most ever since ours come. The Juvenile Court was looking round fersome one to nurse him till his maw got out of the jail hospital. I sezto Maria, 'Here's a chanct to do a good Christian act an' earn ahonest penny. We'll take it in an' treat it like our own, sez I, an'the Lord will not fergit us, sez I!"

The Boarder, taking advantage of this assurance of hospitality, set upsuch a peremptory demand for food, that Miss Lady was compelled towalk the floor with him.

"Where is Mrs. Flathers?" she asked in despair. "Can't we give him abottle or something?"

Maria, more limp, and inanimate than usual, came out of the diminterior of the adjoining room, carrying a yet more limp and inanimatebundle which she exchanged with Miss Lady for hers, and silentlyretired into the inner room where she was followed by Mrs. Ivy.

"An' this here is ours!" exclaimed Phineas, bending with suddenenthusiasm over the child in Miss Lady's arms, and tenderly liftingthe shawl from the weazened face and tiny claw-like hands. "This hereis Loreny. There ain't nary one of the rest of 'em lived over twoweeks, an' this here one is goin' on four. Kinder looks like we'regoin' to keep her with us, don't it?"

Miss Lady could find no answer. The white lips and the blue circlesabout the small, sunken eyes, bespoke the same disinclination to risklife under such circumstances as had been shown by all the otherlittle Flatherses.

"Course she ain't like that other baby," Phineas went on with genuineearnestness, "but then he's a boy, an' eats more. She's goin' to gitfat an' pretty, ain't you, Loreny?"

He put his coarse brown thumb into the little hand which closed aboutit and clung to it, and sat watching her, unmindful of his visitor.

"She don't look what you'd call strong," he went on, anxiously, "butyou wouldn't say she was sick, would you?"

"She does? Then I'd better git the doctor," Phineas rose hurriedly,then sat down again. "But he never done the others no good. Mariaalways contended it was him that killed 'em. Ain't there somethin' wekin do? Don't you know somethin'?"

"Yes, I think I do, only you may not be willing to do it."

"You try me. I'll do anything you say, Miss. If the Lord will onlyspare her--"

"It's not the Lord that's taking her," Miss Lady cried impatiently,"it's you that are sending her, Mr. Flathers. Can't you see that youare killing your baby?"

He looked at her in amazed horror.

"Yes, you are!" went on Miss Lady fiercely, "you are selling her foodto another baby; you are letting her mother work so hard that she canscarcely nourish herself. Just look at Mrs. Flathers! Anybody can seethat if she had better food and less to do she'd be a differentperson."

"Oh, Maria was real pretty onct," Phineas said somewhat resentfully,"but when a man marries one of them slim little blondes he never knowswhat he's gittin'. They sort of shrink up on yer an' git faded an'stringy."

"Yes, but think what she got," said Miss Lady determined to press thematter home. "Myrtella says you were a strong, handsome young man, whocould have turned your hand to almost anything, and look at you now! Abroken-down loafer, sitting around the saloons, talking religion whileyour baby starves. I don't wonder Myrtella is ashamed of you, I amashamed of you, and if this poor little girl ever lives to grow up,she will be ashamed of you, too!"

"No, no," cried Phineas brokenly, his head in his hands, "she won't bethat--if the Lord,--I mean if she lives, I'll be a better man, Mis'Squeerington, indeed I will. Nobody ever will know in the world howmuch I want children of my own. That's why I 'dopted Chick--that's onereason I took in this new one. Seemed like as if my baby went--"

"We'll try to keep her," Miss Lady said with a rush of sympathy. "I'lldo everything I can but you must help, Mr. Flathers. You are willingto do your part, aren't you?"

His emotions, used to responding to false stimulants, being nowappealed to by the one genuine feeling in him, threatened to becomeuncontrolled.

"Not a Orphan's Home?" asked Phineas, lifting one eye from the baby'spetticoat where his head had been buried.

"No, a clean home of her own. There's no reason why you shouldn't goto work, Mr. Flathers, and support your family decently. I'll takeChick home with me. Myrtella will be glad to have him for a littlevisit. Mrs. Ivy is going to send the other baby to the Foundling'sHome. Then you'll only have to look after Mrs. Flathers and the baby;you surely can do that, can't you?"

"Yes 'm, I kin do that. 'Course any man kin do that. But I been out ofa regular job so long, you'd sorter help me find something to starton?"

"I'll get you something to do, if you will only stick to it. PerhapsMrs. Sequin can give you work at her new house. She gave our oldcolored man, Uncle Jimpson, a place."

"No, mam, Praise God! I have escaped this far by bein' kereful. Youknow what it means, Mis' Squeerington, when a man with a family gitsdown with the rheumatism. There's Jires, now--"

"Yes, and Mr. Jires does more for his family lying flat on his backthan you do for yours, up and walking around! You're not fooling meone bit, Mr. Flathers, and there's no use trying to fool yourself. Youeither mean seriously to go to work or you don't. Which is it?"

Phineas Flathers' strong impulse was to flee the scene. He saw hisliberty vanishing before the awful prospect held out by this prettyyoung lady who could be so sympathetic one moment and so stern thenext. But the tiny claw-like fingers of Loreny held him fast. Helooked at his imprisoned thumb and smiled tenderly. Then he faced MissLady squarely for the first time.

"You help me git a job, Miss, an' I'll promise to take keer of thishere baby."

"What you need," came the murmur of Mrs. Ivy's voice from the nextroom, where she was taking leave of Maria Flathers, "is more beauty inyour home, something to uplift you and inspire you. I am going to sendyou one of our traveling art galleries, you may keep the pictures awhole week, long enough to learn the titles and the names of thepainters. Just think what it will mean to lift your tired eyes to abeautiful, serene Madonna! And couldn't you have more color in yourhome? We find color so stimulating. Scarlet geraniums for instance.Wouldn't you like some scarlet geraniums?"

"I dunno where we'd put 'em at," Maria said wearily, shifting theweight of the Boarder to her other arm. Then her face hardenedsuddenly, and she wheeled into the kitchen.

"Flathers," she said, "it's him coming round the house now. He saidhe'd be back before six, an' wouldn't stand no foolin'. What you goin'to do, Flathers?"

Before Miss Lady and Mrs. Ivy could make their exit, the way wasblocked by a heavy-set, muscular, one-eyed man who placed a hand oneither side of the door jamb and unnecessarily announced that there hewas. Frantic efforts on the part of Phineas to signify to the newcomerby winks and gestures, that the presence of guests would prevent histalking business, were without effect.

"You ladies'll have to excuse me," said the intruder cheerfully, "butI can't fool with this bunch no longer. It's pay, or git out, thistime and no mistake."

Maria began to cry, and forgot to jolt the Boarder, and the Boarderwho insisted upon being jolted every instant he was not sleeping oreating, began to cry also. Whereupon Loreny, who had been laid uponthe kitchen table, heard the noise and felt called upon to add hervoice to the chorus.

By this time Chick and his colleagues, scenting excitement from afar,had followed its trail and now presented themselves breathless andinterested to await developments. "Puttin' out" was not a particularnovelty in Bean Alley, but the presence of guests added a picturesquefeature.

"If you can wait a week longer," said Phineas with some attempt atdignity, "I'll be in a position to settle up to date. I'm expectin' togit a job--"

At this the rent man threw back his head and laughed, and theyoungsters back of him laughed, and even the Boarder stopped crying amoment to see what had happened.

"But he really is," insisted Miss Lady, coming to Phineas' assistance."He's going to work the first of the week. Surely you can wait a weeklonger."

"I can, Miss!" said the man in the door, gallantly. "I been waiting aweek longer on Flathers for more'n two months. There ain't absolutelyno use in arguing the matter further. It's pay up, or git out,_to-day_."

"Well, if this ain't the limit!" said Phineas, with the air of one whohad reached it many times before, but never such a limitless limit asthis.

"But if we pay this month's rent for him, can't you let him make upthe back rent later?" argued Miss Lady, trying to comfort Maria whothreatened to become hysterical.

"When you've known Flathers as long as I have, you won't talk abouthim paying up."

"But you can't put them out like this, with that little baby and noplace to go!"

"There's the Charity Organization, and the Alms House," suggested Mrs.Ivy, wiping her eyes through sympathy.

"I'd hate to drive 'em to that," said the man doggedly, "but I got myown family to consider, and I ain't what I once was, since I lost myeye."

"Poor man," sighed Mrs. Ivy; "how fortunate It was the left one! Howdid it happen?"

"Shot out," said the man, nothing loath to enter into particulars. "Ina scrap between a pair of young swells that was hangin' round myplace. Shot out in cold blood when I wasn't lookin'."

"But, my good man, didn't you prosecute?" asked Mrs. Ivy. "You know wehave a Legal Aid Society for just such cases as yours."

[Illustration: Maria began to cry, and forgot to jolt the Boarder]

"Yes'm, but one of the young gentlemen skipped the country, lit outfer foreign parts, took to the tall timber, as you might say."

"But he was not the one who did the shooting, was he?" asked MissLady, a sudden bright spot on either cheek, and the steadydetermination in her eye that had been Flathers' undoing.

"I ain't never been able to say which one done it," said the man,faltering under her steady gaze.

"Perhaps it was worth your while not to say?"

The man shot a quick glance of suspicion at her, then his eye cameback to Phineas.

"Of course, I don't want to push him into the Poor House, and if heexpects to get work--"

"Well, if the ladies'll stand for this month," said the man, evidentlyanxious to get away, "I'll wait a week longer on the back rent."

Miss Lady was preoccupied and silent on the way home. The worldsometimes seemed desperately sordid, and human nature a bafflingproposition.

At her gate Mrs. Ivy halted suddenly: "Do you know," she said, "it hasjust occurred to me! I shouldn't be one bit surprised if that horridone-eyed man was the very one Mr. Morley shot!"

CHAPTER XVI

Christmas night on Billy-goat Hill, and twinkling lights, beginningwith candles set in bottles in the humblest cottages in Bean Alley,dotted the hillside here and there, until they all seemed to convergeat one brilliant spot on the summit, where a veritable halo of lighthung above the hilltop.

For Angora Heights was having a house-warming, and never since old BobCarsey brought home his young bride from Alabama, had suchpreparations been known for a social function. All the carriages inthe neighborhood had been pressed into service, and a half dozenmotors had been sent out from town to convey the guests from thestation to the house.

Within the mansion everything was magnificently new. Period rooms,carried out with conscientious accuracy, opened into each otherthrough arcaded doorways. Massive gilt mirrors accentuated the widespaces of the hall, and repeated the lights of innumerablechandeliers. If a stray memory or an old association had by any chancecrept into the Christmas ball, it would have found no familiar objecton which to dwell. The atmosphere was as formal and impersonal as thatof a museum.

In the middle of the drawing-room, like a general issuing last ordersbefore a battle, stood Mrs. Sequin, her ample figure encased in anarmor of glistening black spangles, and her elaborately puffedcoiffure surmounted by an incipient helmet of blazing gems.

"Pull those portieres back a trifle," she commanded, "and lower thatwindow from the top. Has Jimpson gone to the station for theQueeringtons?"

"Yes, madam, half an hour ago," answered the maid.

"The moment he returns tell him that he is to take the small wagon andgo back to the station at ten o'clock. The caterer has just 'phonedthat he is sending the extra ices out on the last train, but that hecannot send another waiter. Jenkins, leaving the way he did, has upseteverything. I suppose it is too late to get anybody now; the specialcar gets here at nine. What is that noise? It sounds like some onesinging in the dining-room."

"It's the new furnace man, madam, that Mrs. Queerington sent. It lookslike he can't keep himself quiet."

"I'll quiet him!" said Mrs. Sequin, who was as near irritation as fulldress would permit.

Phineas Flathers, having replenished the fire, was pausing a moment toadmire himself in the Dutch mirror above the mantel when Mrs. Sequinstartled him by inquiring peremptorily if he was the new man.

"I am," said Phineas with pronounced deference, "_the_ new man and _a_new man. Regenerated, born again, mam, the spirit of evil havingdeparted from me."

Mrs. Sequin gasped. "What is your name?"

"Flathers, mam."

"Dreadful! I will call you Benson."

"Benson it is. Better men than me have changed their names. There wasSaul now, Saul of Tarsus--"

"Turn the drafts off in the furnace and don't come up-stairs again onany account. But no,--wait a moment." Mrs. Sequin's keen eye swept himfrom head to foot. "Have you ever had any experience in serving?"

Phineas, whose only claim to serving was that "they also serve whoonly stand and wait," dropped his eyes.

"Only the communion, mam, and the collection. But I ain't abovelending a hand, mam. You'd do as much for me. I was just saying to thelady in the kitchen, that anybody was fortunate to work for a personwith as generous a face as yours."

"Clean yourself up, and put on Jenkins' coat, and if another waiter isabsolutely necessary, they can call on you," directed Mrs. Sequinhurriedly, then calling to the maid, "Has Miss Margery come down yet?"